


Jaskier's Words are Horseshit

by Llama1412



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e06 Rare Species, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: The thing about Jaskier is, he never shuts up. Literally, ever. That was the first thing Geralt noticed about the bard, but he was not prepared for all that entailed. Jaskier was, quite literally, always making noise of some sort. If he wasn’t singing, he was humming, muttering, strumming at his lute. Even in his sleep, the bard hmm’d and sighed and mumbled and snored continuously.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 180





	Jaskier's Words are Horseshit

**Author's Note:**

> since I'm apparently posting all angst today, sharing this because I kept telling myself I should give it a happy ending but nothing came to mind.

The thing about Jaskier is, he never shuts up. Literally, ever. That was the first thing Geralt noticed about the bard, but he was not prepared for all that entailed. Jaskier was, quite literally, always making noise of some sort. If he wasn’t singing, he was humming, muttering, strumming at his lute. Even in his sleep, the bard hmm’d and sighed and mumbled and snored  _ continuously _ .

It was, quite frankly, overwhelming. 

Despite what many may think, Geralt did not enjoy silence. But chatting with Roach on the road with birdsong in the background was wildly different than spending any time at all with Jaskier. It wasn’t that he objected to the sound, necessarily. In theory. It was just a lot. All at once.

So it wasn’t until after they’d run into each other again after parting ways some weeks after Posada that Geralt realized the most important thing about Jaskier. His words were absolute horseshit,  _ especially _ in song. Jaskier talked like he couldn’t stand silence, which meant he said absolutely anything that was possible to be said. But once he realized that, Jaskier actually became easier to read. It certainly explained why Jaskier didn’t seem to care that Geralt ignored 80% of anything he said. 

Jaskier’s words were meaningless. He was a master at his craft, and his craft was shaping sounds any way he wanted to get his way. 

On their fourth time journeying together, he realizes he’s curious, and he decides to block out Jaskier’s voice, to pay attention to everything  _ except _ the noise. And he discovers that once you block out the flood of words, Jaskier actually isn’t as complicated and difficult to understand as he always thought.

Jaskier’s actions were usually overwhelmed by a wave of talking or singing, but they were consistent. 

The way he gently tended to Geralt’s injuries after a hunt, despite the Witcher insisting it wasn’t necessary.

The way he always carried the bath oils the Geralt liked, the ones that didn’t smell overwhelming. The way Jaskier would wash his hair or rub his shoulders when he let him.

The way Jaskier followed him on the Path, words full of complaints, but feet always following. The way Jaskier smiled at him across the tavern when they were flush with victory and coin, and Jaskier danced in the limelight of attention. The bard thrived on attention, he was clearly meant to be a showman. And yet even in those moments, where Jaskier was getting all the attention he craved, he’d meet Geralt’s eyes and smile, checking in.

The way Jaskier had changed his reputation, had noticed the way villagers cringed when Geralt walked by and made it so they smiled instead, humming Jaskier’s ridiculous songs as they worked.

The way Jaskier defended him whenever someone spoke their opinion on Witchers. The way he fought so hard to change those opinions.

Every action seemed to scream the bard’s care for him. And yet, every action was drowned out by all the noise Jaskier made. 

It made him think of a con or a magic trick. Hold attention with one hand, and while the audience is distracted, do what you want with the other hand. If that didn’t fit Jaskier, he didn’t know what did. Always talking, talking, talking, ever the distraction. And while people focused on his words, his actions were overlooked. It was honestly rather masterful.

Geralt had always appreciated competence. Once he understood how to read the bard, he found that he enjoyed his company more. It was okay if he got overwhelmed and ignored Jaskier’s words at times. His words weren’t important. 

–– 

One thing he’d learned about Jaskier. Never pay attention to Jaskier’s lyrics. His lyrics lie for him, a silver-tongued enchantment to charm audiences. Jaskier’s mouth lies as easy as breathing, but his body language, his emotion, that’s what you watch. 

That’s why the way his voice cracks in  _ Her Sweet Kiss _ is so devastating.

Jaskier didn’t know he was here. Geralt stood barely inside the tavern, trying not to draw attention. Given the tavern’s focus on the bard’s performance and the numerous teary eyes around the room, this was easier than usual. Geralt shuffled into the shadows of the room, his eyes glued to the bard.

Jaskier’s own eyes were lowered to the floor, the slump of his shoulders completely at odds with the usual energy he brings to performing. Jaskier lives to be the center of attention; he flourishes in front of an audience – his smile brighter, body restless, feet dancing him around the crowd. But not now. Now, the bard was sitting in a chair, head lowered and posture bowed as if under a great weight. His voice was loud, though, easily carrying over the hushed tavern.

It was wrong. This wasn’t the boundless artist he was familiar with. No, the fragile, heartbroken form in the spotlight seemed entirely foreign from the Jaskier he knew. And he knew it was his fault.


End file.
